Black Butler: Darker Descent
by MisaoBlossom
Summary: Sebastian joins up with some of his demon chums while on the necessary hunt for a new contract. No one has quite forgotten Ciel Phantomhive, so when Sebastian crosses paths with people from the past they just might get in the way of his acquiring a new soul. Not only will he let them get in the way, he may take them with him...
1. The Butler: As A Dinner Guest

Two dark shadows loomed in the mahogany arch of a doorway the led into a long, narrow hall. Their sudden watchful presence startled the young maid arranging flowers in an antique vase nearby. She squealed and knocked the vase over. An icy stare from one shadow drained the color from the maid's cheeks, and she bustled away murmuring apologies.

"I cannot fathom why you hired these imbec-…never mind."

"Why Sebastian, I believe you were about to offer your opinion on the manor's latest catastrophe. Do share!"

The creature known as Sebastian Michaelis merely tapped a finger on his lip instead of answering his demonic colleague. He still called himself Sebastian among the human populace, as he had yet to forge a new contract that stipulated a name-change.

The black butler turned his head to look at the harpy standing next to him. After his last covenant finished its term, he had uncharacteristically teamed up with the she-devil that currently leaned against the door-frame, licking her lips in anticipation. At present, the she-devil's master called her Leila Thomas.

In Sebastian's mind the name Leila suited the harpy very well; the name meant dark as night. Leila's naturally tanned skin next to a piece of toffee made the candy seem more comparable to pale rice paper. The elegant braids twisted into a complex knot at the nape of her neck unwound at the end of the day into a dark chocolate cascade that fell below her knees. She appeared more like a sweet meant to be placed in a child's greedy palm than a demon for Sebastian to dally with.

"Nonsense, Pudding. I would not dream of interfering in your daily work. I am here at the master's invitation after all." Leila giggled and coyly twisted a loose lock of hair around her finger. Her fangs, previously hidden from mortal eyes, began to glisten.

"_I _am the one that put the suggestion forth. Don't forget that, Sebby." Were it not for his impeccable manners, Sebastian would have shuddered at that hideous nickname. But he gathered his thoughts and leaned down with a mocking smile.

"How careless of me. After all, _Pudding_, the invitation had nothing to do with your lack of expertise in preparing a proper Russian stroganoff, did it?"

Sebastian put a substantial emphasis on _pudding, _his own title for her. Sebastian referred to the traditional summer pudding made in most English households. Under closer scrutiny, Leila did indeed resemble the dark and dumpy tub shape of the cake because of her much lesser height. The cheap service material her master allowed her to call a uniform did more to highlight the matter than correct it.

A spark of irritation appeared in Leila's jewel-colored eyes as she recognized the insulting term. She actually hissed and stepped closer to the butler.

"Do you want to eat or not? It has been a while since your last meal and I couldn't care less about letting you starve."

Sebastian stiffened imperceptibly, but Leila caught the movement and smiled her menacing predator's smile. She leaned closer and looked up at him.

"Tell me, does such a great feast ruin the appetite for the…lesser filth of the earth?"

The jibe hit home, and Sebastian remained silent and stoic. He refused to discuss Ciel Phantomhive with the harpy. His involvement with the boy, watching him develop into a tantalizing soul and appeal to all demons, had extracted more from him than the ultimate end of the contract had bestowed. A bell shrieked into the silenced and a man's voice boomed out from the study in front of them.

"Leila!"

With a long-suffering sigh Leila moved forward and beckoned Sebastian to follow. Upon her entrance into the study the old master flung his cigar onto the floor, accustomed to having her scramble to retrieve it immediately. Still engrossed in the mountain of papers on his desk, he failed to notice that Leila did not reach for the discarded cigar. Nor did he observe the claws that were rapidly replacing the nails on her fingers.

"Yes sir?"

"Aren't the dinner preparations complete yet?! The Russian oligarchs will arrive shortly! Damn you woman, I want you to do your job and get this **done!**"

"I'm afraid that will not be possible. Not ever again, my lord." Leila's silky voice didn't register in the master's ears for a moment. When they did, he thumped the papers he held onto the desk and glared up at her.

"Why the devil not? Never mind that…you're fired!" Leila laughed at the man, her cold shriek bouncing off the four walls and morphing into a sickening sound.

"Forgotten, have you? You made a covenant sir, and though you attempted to conceal the fact, our contract is now completed. There is only one order of business we must see to before I take my leave of you…" She slithered forward and braced her hands on the desk as she watched fear grow in the master's eyes.

An oath from outside drew Sebastian to the window, and there he observed a young gardener trying to salvage a ripped bag of soil that had partially fallen into the courtyard fountain. After hearing a dry cough from behind him Sebastian shut the open window pane. Now Leila could have her fun.

The old master struggled to rise from his chair, joints stiff from a lifetime of luxury and excess. Leila walked around the desk and perched on the arm of the man's chair.

Sebastian abhorred the amount of amusement Leila got from tormenting her business contracts, mentally and emotionally breaking them down as if she were cutting up her portions. Though he did not deny the satisfaction that came from destroying a soul, Sebastian had no use for torture. Not after Ciel.

A carriage rolled by bearing the livery of the Marchioness of Midford. Sebastian raised his brows in surprise as memories engulfed him again. He thought of Ciel's fiancée, the sweet, innocent little Elizabeth, with a peculiar amount of curiosity. For the first time in many years wondered what had become of her- meaning what imbecile she'd been married off to- and considered seeking her whereabouts after dealing with the matter at hand.

He focused on the landscaper outdoors and thought of Finny, the Phantomhive gardener. He blocked out the screams of Leila's former master and her shrill laughter. A claw snaking down the sleeve of his shirt brought him back to reality. This man was not Ciel. This particular scum meant nothing, and quite honestly would help tide him over until a new contract was forged.

"Dinner time, Sebby! I've saved you quite a bit. Aren't you just _starving_?"

Sebastian smiled to himself as he embraced the darkly demonic delight that boiled in his bloodless veins. He tugged off his pristine white gloves with his teeth and turned back to face Leila with a hellish grin.

"Leila…I'm _ravenous_."


	2. The Butler: Hired

Lady Elizabeth, Marchioness of Clare, sighed in relief as her carriage rolled farther away from the desolate smog of London. A stifled yawn drew her attention from the rolling hills outside the window. Elizabeth turned and looked at her precious daughter, Anne, who dozed on the seat opposite her.

She noticed that Anne had managed to muss up her carefully arranged golden curls and rumple her skirts in the short time it took them to depart from London for the quiet country estate of the Marchioness of Midford, Elizabeth's disciplinarian mother. She chuckled to herself and made a mental note to adjust Anne's appearance before her stern grandmother caught sight of her.

Anne showed her mother a tiny smile before her eyes drifted completely shut, and Elizabeth ran away with her thoughts once more. Rain began seeping from the skies above, and she abruptly thought of Ciel Phantomhive. Years ago, on a day much like this one, she had to bear up under the news that her dearest friend and fiancé had perished in the great fire of London. Perhaps that was why Elizabeth always hated the city, but perhaps because she had also lost dear Alan, the Marquess of Clare.

Sadness washed over her like water upon her petticoats. Her family had fit together like a pair of crisp clean gloves; Alan, Elizabeth, Edward and Anne. Only a year ago they had been together. Now, Alan lay at rest and Edward, her dear son, resided permanently in the country with his grandmother, his ill-health making it impossible for him to come to London with his mother and sister.

"Have I ever been happy since that day?" Elizabeth wondered aloud, softly in the silent carriage. Anne stirred, and Elizabeth drew her lips together in a thin line. Ciel never drifted far from her mind. A familiar hatred sparked to life, and a flush of anger crossed her cheeks. What had happened to Ciel? Why had he been taken from her? Why had Alan's life been so cruelly destroyed? Her delicate hand curled into a fist, and she set her jaw at the thought of those rapacious murderers escaping into the night.

"Elizabeth! Wipe that sour look off of your face. You are Anne's leading example, as I'm sure you are aware." Elizabeth jumped at the shout, close to that of an army drill sergeant. An hour had seemed like minutes, and now she looked into the eyes of her mother, Lady Francis, Marchioness of Midford.

"Good afternoon, my lady mother. It's so good to see you!" Lady Francis answered with her usual smirk and snapped at the footman to open the door. A single nudge woke Anne immediately, and Anne eagerly leaped into the arms of her grandmother.

"Anne Victoria Francis Atherton, you look slovenly! What have you done to your skirts?! Has your tiring woman run a brush through your hair today?!"

Lady Francis held her granddaughter back at arm's length for a close inspection, making Anne giggle. A steely glance from her grandmother silenced her, and Anne turned her shining green eyes towards her mother, who gratefully took the footman's hand and gracefully descended from the carriage. Lady Francis did not discover anything else untoward about her only granddaughter and sent her on with a maid to attend to said imperfections. Lady Francis snapped her fingers and two parasols were put into their hands. She motioned for Elizabeth to open her parasol and follow her into the gardens.

"How has Edward done this month, mother?"

"He had a bout of illness after his last outing. He's much farther behind in his studies now. I've tried pushing the boy, but his health is too fragile for him to accomplish _anything_. A waste, Elizabeth-"

"He is my son, mother. Edward is also your grandson-"

"Have I ever disputed that? I only say that he could never have lived up to my expectations if he were my son." Elizabeth fought hard to stifle her building anger and continued speaking with her mother as they walked through the garden.

From afar, the black butler observed them impassively. His eyes occasionally darted to an area of interest on the grounds, but always his eyes returned to Elizabeth. He could sense the mounting anger, the delicious bitterness in her soul. The dark desire to inflict revenge. Sebastian slid strings of hair behind his ear and swiftly moved away from the country estate. A corner of his mouth turned up briefly before he put on his mask of pleasant indifference. Lady Elizabeth could well be his next contract. Except she belonged to Ciel. _Or did. _So mayhap there was no hesitation to be had about procuring this new soul.

Rain continued to pound against the windowpanes that day as Elizabeth sat with her frail son in his bedchamber, watching him play soldiers with Anne. His hair, once the color of corn silk when he was little, had begun to turn brown from his seclusion. His wide grey eyes appeared a little sunken, and often he would turn away from his sister to stifle a coughing fit.

In despair, Elizabeth left her children in the care of their nanny and fled to her own rooms. She sat on the edge of her large fluffy bed and listened to the buckets of rain hammering the country manor roof. Despite that time spent staring blankly into nothing peace did not come for her. A rap on the door made Elizabeth start, and she answered with more anger and venom than she had in the first place.

"One Sebastian Michaelis to see you ma'am." The maid curtsied and waited for instructions as Elizabeth stared again. She recognized the name, of course, but she thought of Ciel and immediately her heart pounded.

"Send the man in, Brigit."

"Will do, ma'am."

Impeccably dressed as always, Sebastian strode into the middle of Elizabeth's bedchamber. The maid left and they gazed at each other for a moment. Elizabeth spoke first, her voice flat.

"Quite a coincidence that I should make your acquaintance again after so many years. You know who I am, don't you Sebastian?"

"You are the Lady Atherton, Dowager Marchioness of Clare. Though when last I saw you, you were simply Miss Elizabeth."

"I suppose you are aware that I as well as the Marchioness of Midford have been trying to locate you and the other former retainers of the Phantomhive family for _years_?" Sebastian smiled apologetically, hiding the extent of his knowledge.

"Unfortunately, that information did not reach me. I have been away for a very long time."

"I know what you are, Sebastian Michaelis. I am no fool." The black butler ceased smiling and studied the woman standing across from him, collected and cool.

"Then…you know that Ciel-"

"Yes, I know what you were to Ciel. You were his tutor, his advisor, his _weapon_. Now that you are here, I want to enlist your services. To the devil with this proposition being 'ill-mannered'." Elizabeth's face did not express any emotion, but her voice rose and fell passionately as she sent the oath into the space between them.

Sebastian stepped back for a moment as he continued to look at the Marchioness. No, she had no clue of what he was or what deal he'd forged with Ciel. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage. A deal of souls need not be struck yet; this opening to Elizabeth might be lost if he gambled with too much. The butler bowed respectfully.

"I find there is nothing untoward about it, my lady. If you would permit me, I would be honored to serve your house."

For a moment Elizabeth glared down at him stonily. Then she simply nodded and turned away.

"Your first order is to find Lau, the opium dealer." Sebastian felt the devious thrill emanating from her soul and found himself reluctantly intrigued.

"May I ask as to why, young mistress?"

"If I could be certain of your utmost confidentiality…"

"Effective immediately, madam."

"My husband dealt with the trading companies of the Far East. I should like to revive his expansive business holdings, and so am going to reopen dealings through Lau. Set it up." Elizabeth had turned away by then and did not see Sebastian's unearthly grin.

"I certainly will, madam."

"Sebastian…"

"Yes, madam?" She looked over the demon once, eyes unexpectedly lingering on his wide-set shoulders.

"Your attire is several years out of date. I expect better from the butler of the Atherton household. See to it before I summon you again."

"With much gratitude, Marchioness. Now I shall tend to that errand."

* * *

Sebastian happened upon Lau shortly after departing from the country home of the Marchioness. He lay on his divan flanked by two small immodest Chinese girls, who fawned over him by batting their long lashes and fanning themselves with the delicate, intricately designed paper fans of their home culture. Sebastian glanced around as he walked towards the Chinese trader.

Thick and heavy drapes smothered the light that otherwise would have filled the room. A dark navy color and low lamplight splashed across the walls. A heavy smoke drifted up from the stairs nearby, and his acute sense of hearing allowed him to pick up a range of giggles and nonsensical murmurs. Clearly, the merchant preferred to remove himself from the open corruption of his opium den. He left a few steps between himself and the dealer when he ceased his long strides across the room. Lau blew a ring of smoke in Sebastian's face before truly realizing who stood in front of him.

"Sebastian! Come come, take a seat. This is only water vapor in my pipe, you understand."

"We have not had the chance to meet in many years, Lau. Is your sister still about?"

"Who…Ah yes, Ran-Mao. When it suits her she does spend time in the East End entertaining herself with the…business I have there." Sebastian gave Lau his most obliging, innocent smile.

"Of course. Speaking of, I have come with an opportunity to further your business interests. My mistress would like to engage your services." Lau put his pipe into the hands of the girl to his right and leaned forward eagerly.

"Lovely. I had heard rumors that something was afoot with your new mistress."

"Already? And what precisely have you heard?" Lau colored a little and spread his hands with a shrug. The two girl smiled.

"Ah well, I was hoping you knew."

"You have absolutely no idea, do you Lau?"

"Not at all."

"Then please allow me to enlighten you. Lady Atherton would like to recover what is left of her late Lord's enterprises abroad. Perhaps even expand when the time comes…" Lau widened his eyes.

"You mean…Elizabeth of Midford? _Phantomhive's sweetheart_."

"Former, Lau. That was many years ago, and as I am sure you are aware, Lady Elizabeth did marry." Lau nodded and narrowed his eyes, but the gleam of intrigue had not left them.

"Yes, a splendid, extravagant affair. I was invited. Then a certain…unknown decided to pursue the Marquess. They succeeded eventually. A lamentable loss, just as Vincent Phantomhive was. As Ciel Phantomhive was-"

"Back to the point, Lau. Lady Elizabeth would deeply appreciate your services, and I am here on her behalf to invite you to…perhaps make a social call the next time she is in town."

"Of course. Perhaps in late fall, when the colder weather deters prying eyes and ears on the street?"

"I quite agree, as I believe my mistress would. We shall expect you in the afternoon one day then."

"Lovely. Does that conclude your errand here, or would you perhaps enjoy an hour downstairs?" Sebastian bowed his head humbly, his hair hiding the grim smile.

"As the butler of the Atherton family, it goes without saying that my behavior is always above reproach."

"Is that so? Well then, bye!" Lau's customary farewell was abrupt, and he immediately turned his attention back to the ladies at his side. Sebastian solemnly slithered away from the dingy hole of depravity and made for the country estate of the Marchioness. At the end of the puddle-ridden street a familiar dark figure sidled up beside him.

"Good afternoon, Leila," Sebastian did not bother with proper formality since it seemed no one had ventured out this afternoon. Leila fixed him with a pouting glance.

"What are you about today Sebby? And more importantly, why didn't you tell _me_?!" She whined at him. Sebastian threw her an insincere smile of apology.

"Because I am not about anything at present, Leila. Pardon me for unintentionally leading you on."

"I know when I'm being brushed off, dear one. Incidentally, you must call me Mary now. I've a new master- mistress, actually. The woman is not very ambitious, and I daresay I'll have yet another contract complete before Christmas. Jealous of my accomplishments, Sebby?"

"Not at all, Mary." She stopped him on the street, glittering eyes attempting to read his thoughts. Of course he shielded them from her well, and her failure to understand the butler obviously exasperated her.

"Have you something tasty on the strings then?"

"No. Tea-time is close at hand, and I should like to be out of this dismal weather." The harpy teetered after him, close on his heels even though Sebastian's strides were far longer than hers.

"Aha, you _do _have a new contract! Who is it? Can I come with you and see? _Tell meeeee!_ _Who **is it**, Sebastian?!_" Sebastian quickened his pace, his long legs putting even more distance between him and the dark demon.

"Unless you're willing to risk snapping those expensive new heels of yours, _Pudding, _I shall have to bid you adieu." At that particular moment, a nearby shopkeeper snatched a broom and prodded the hanging sign above his cozy shop. Water that had collected in the cracks and crevices of the wood poured off of the sign and onto the passing Leila/Mary. She spluttered and screeched to a halt to berate the shopkeeper.

By the time she'd resumed her course and rounded the corner, Sebastian had vanished from sight. The harpy stood in the torrential rain, soaking wet and increasingly infuriated by the second. Her eyes darted around eagerly for the butler, and she smelled the air, strained to hear far away, in case she might pick up some trace of him. Finally giving up with an angry snarl, the harpy also disappeared into the bleak, blanketing veil of rain.


	3. Her Butler: Beginning The Game

Hard at work, Sebastian paced around the kitchen, swiftly snatching spices off of their shelves and depositing them like soldiers in straight lines on the counter near the large stove. An oversized cauldron sputtered on the gas burners of the stove, and Sebastian absently smiled at it while rolling up his sleeves. He turned to the man huddling in front of him and stepped closer.

"We're almost finished. I need you to apply all your strength this time…"

"I'm too tired to deal with a fourth one. Please, Mister Sebastian, no more!"

"Just one more,"

"I'm just too tired I can't"

"Yes you can," the black butler stated simply with another smile. After a moment, a sharp crack snapped in the room. The other man jerked back and tripped over a neat stack of freshly cleaned pans, sprawling onto the ground. Sebastian immediately moved to help him to his feet.

"I do apologize if you have sustained any very lamentable injuries during this activity."

"So stupid…"

"Indeed. But the Devonshire recipe that Lady Atherton requested calls for four blue crabs. This kitchen does not possess either a mallet, fork, or any other practical utensil with which to crack the shell. The joints are quite tough, and I thank you for helping me pull the legs off."

"Seems like a foolhardy way t' do things, but alrigh- gah! How'd you get all them blue crab meat into the stewpot so quickly?!"

"As the butler of the Atherton family, it goes without saying that I must work quickly and efficiently. Mister Bellamy, wasn't it?"

"Yes sir, Bellamy's me name. Just Bellamy" The short man staring up at the butler in open fascination could have been anywhere between 17 and 30, his age seeming so well hidden. Though his mousy brown hair held no grey and curled neatly behind his ears, a pair of cracked old wire spectacles sat on his crooked nose. His voice wasn't very deep, and a soft as a wind whistling through Midford at night. But beneath his rumpled shirt and tie an observer could see the faint outline of muscles.

"Again, my thanks to you for helping me with the soup."

"Tell me, is my lady goin' t' let me off now that she's got you?"

"Of course not, Bellamy. I am merely a butler. The Atherton family still requires your services."

Bellamy roughly rubbed his right shoulder, and then hopped onto an unused counter to watch with fascination as Sebastian flung an array of tantalizing ingredients and deliciously aromatic spices into the cauldron. Melted butter bubbled as Sebastian stirred, bits celery and onion softening immediately and floating to the surface. He poured frothy milk into and moved to prepare the Melba toast. To say that the scent of the simmering soup filling the kitchen was heavenly would be an understatement.

"Um…gentleman? Where is Nanny Kitty?" A feeble trembling voice made Bellamy and Sebastian whirl around and come face to face with Edward Atherton, Elizabeth's beloved but sickly son.

"Good afternoon, Master Edward. Shouldn't you be resting?" Though his smile seemed a tad weak, Edward waved at Sebastian cheerily.

"Good afternoon Sebastian. Nanny Kitty left me. I want to know where she's gone…"

"Ah Kitty probably took a break, sir." Bellamy jumped to attention and bowed at Edward, who chuckled a little. Then the boy started coughing, shoulders beginning to shake violently, and instantly Sebastian was at his side with a handkerchief. Eventually the fit quieted, and Edward shook his head miserably, though not a single silky length of his dark blonde hair slid out of place.

"She _is _coming back, right?"

"Of course!" Both men answered, a little taken aback. At that moment, in burst a fury of red tangles. If one had attempted to tame and brush aside those knots and twists of red, they would have caught a glimpse of the milky white face of Kitty Connolly, nurse of the Atherton household. She stumbled on her own two feet and nearly tumbled head-first into the vat of bubbling soup. Deftly, Sebastian swooped to Kitty's side and gracefully lifted her back onto her feet, ultimately saving Kitty from the embarrassment of having her skirts fly up and rescuing the soup from ruination.

If her hair were not in rats, the company in the kitchen could have seen the vivid blood-red blush that suffused Kitty's face as she nestled into Sebastian's firm grasp. Edward laughed, and spontaneously burst into another coughing fit that an anxious Bellamy attempted to calm. Kitty stuttered and struggled the push her masses of red tangles aside as she stepped back and rushed towards Edward.

"Oh Master Edward, calm down, dear sweetling! Master Edward, here, here is your favorite kerchief. It always makes you fee better. Take it!"

She gave her ward his favorite freshly-pressed blue handkerchief and patted his back while his fit continued. Edward quieted down again and pushed away the cloth. Kitty stood up and nervously fidgeted with her rumpled apron. She fought to brush her hair out of her face and stammered when she spoke to Sebastian.

"T-thank you M-Mister Seb-b-bastian! I'm a-awful so clumsy, an' m-much obliged t-to you." Sebastian suppressed a sigh and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Honestly, Kitty, your lack of natural poise reminds of-…" Sebastian realized the direction of his thoughts and fell silent. Kitty's face fell and she threw him a concerned look from behind her hair.

"L-like who, M-Mister Sebastian? Y-you thinking o-of y-your b-bonny sweetheart?" Sebastian recovered his manners and gave her an impersonal smile.

"No, Miss Connelly. Merely an old associate of mine." _Mey-Rin, _he thought to himself with no small amounts of annoyance and fondness. It seemed to him that signing on with Lady Atherton had wrested the cap off of his memories. Absorbed in the growing flood of recollection he faced, Sebastian paid no heed to the glowing smile of reassurance on Nanny Kitty's face.

Kitty hustled Edward out of the kitchen with murmurs of apologies to the young lord and an apologetic glance at Sebastian and Bellamy. The black butler removed the pot from the stove and expertly transferred it to the elaborate silver tureen nearby. Bellamy hummed and looked out the tiny window.

"Bless Master Edward's soul, he's such a nice guy! I'm going t' cook him something real sweet for him on his birthday." Sebastian did roll his eyes this time while Bellamy danced around the kitchen. Today he appeared to be his rash, unrealistic 17-year-old self. Perhaps tomorrow he would be his more intrusive, silent 30-yeaar-old self. One could only hope. Sebastian paced proudly out of the kitchen carrying the tureen in one steady hand, and balancing a tray in the other.

He walked out onto a spacey patio that overlooked the rose gardens. The blinding sunlight would have been stifling were it not for the airy breeze the ruffled Lady Elizabeth's curl and blew two radical strands of hair into the Marchioness of Midford's face. She glared at them, as though they would desist and retreat in the face of her displeasure. The other women on the patio peered at Sebastian from under the wide brimmed sunhats as his long legs took him to the head of the table, draped with a pristine white lace cloth.

"What do you have for us at this luncheon today, Sebastian?" He bowed respectfully.

"My lady, if I may." Lady Elizabeth waited a moment for the chatter of her companions to die down, and then nodded her assent.

"Today the staff and I at Midford have prepared…" He paused as the guests leaned in. With a grand flourish, Sebastian unveiled the tureen and listened to the quiet hums and murmurs of approval.

"Devonshire crab soup, the breezy tang reminiscent of the quaint seaside in our fair country. For the entrée, delicate cucumber sandwiches will be brought out, followed by citrus ice to offset the heat of this afternoon." The butler served the women seated at the table and bowed again to Lady Elizabeth, who held her hand out.

"See that the gardeners are taking scare of the rose bushes for our stroll later."

"Very good, my lady." Sebastian strolled around the first hedge in the garden and then stood, absolutely motionless, awaiting the conversation to start. Of course he had already seen to the pruning of the rose bushes beforehand and Lady Elizabeth had dismissed the gardening staff for the day. Instead, the butler would listen in on the small party of noblewomen gathered on the patio. A stiff voice broke the pleasant silence first, one Sebastian recognized as belonging to the old steel-haired matron Lady Marsbury.

"Do allow me to say, Lady Atherton, that you have acquired an excellent staff." The rather scandalous and ill-mannered young Lady Spell laughed and jumped in with her own commentary.

"Let us hope your second husband will allow you to replace his own household with yours, or I daresay calling on you won't be near so pleasant."

Sebastian chuckled a little at the ensuing flurry of questions directed at his mistress. Though the Marchioness of Midford was the only woman he could not detect through the shrubbery, he _knew _that she would barely conceal her murderous glare towards the Lady Spell. The chatter sounded quite banal and not very intriguing in the least, but Sebastian remained, unmoving and oblivious to the heat of the sun on his black wool uniform. At a small snap of Lady Elizabeth's fingers, Sebastian magically appeared in the doorway of the veranda to clear away the dishes. He would have hours to see to the proper cleaning of the table setting, and perhaps polish the grand staircase, before the party ended and his mistress called on him again.

* * *

Dusk neared its end as the moon ascended into the sky and the bustle of visitors and servants slowed to nothing. Just as he applied the last coat of Guardsmen's Wood Polish to the bottom rungs of the stairs, his ears pricked at the sound of a high silver bell. He rose and flew to his mistress' boudoir, where Anne played quietly with her dolls beside her mother.

"Summer is nearing its conclusion, Sebastian. I do believe that the household will pack for the journey to the estate in London before much longer."

"Of course madam."

"I expect to entertain at least one visitor, wouldn't you say?"

"At least one, my lady, without a doubt."

"Exceptional. Thank you, Sebastian. On a different matter, I should very much appreciate coffee tomorrow morning whilst I interview governesses for Anne. Perhaps a simple sweet Danish pastry as well, since I must also miss breakfast with my mother to meet with the Spaniard arriving tomorrow. We have some… trade in Spain to attend to before moving any farther forward."

"But we _are _moving forward regardless. Is that correct madam?" She studied a small paper in her hand with an angry frown.

"Yes. The gathering this afternoon was splendid. I hope you now know their voices and faces well, Sebastian." Anne made an exploding sound nearby and momentarily distracted Lady Elizabeth.

"Oh no, Nurse Nightingale! We have more soldiers to-"

"I have memorized what I needed to, my lady." She abruptly refocused on her butler with a frown. Anne continued to play, oblivious to the scheme unfolding a foot away. Lady Elizabeth tossed a grainy tin-type photograph onto the coffee table and pointed a sharply manicured nail at the face.

"This man here holds the reigns of Atherton interests in Shanghai. He answers to the name Ivan Filipovic."

"A Serbian, my lady?"

"Quite. I have reason to believe he is selling off our family stocks without permission and pocketing the proceeds. I have received complaints from the widows of the workers he has supervised, claiming they never received compensation. However, whenever I have attempted to catch him in the act, he seems to clean up his messes. As if he had prior warning. There a rumors among the ton that some of my guests today have taken on…foreign friends, if you will, and I want to know if any are involved with him inadvertently feeding him information."

"Very good, madam. I will see to it. What should I do should _I _catch him in the act?" Elizabeth looked mildly uncomfortable for a split second, but then colored in anger.

"Ask him if my husband knew what he was up to. I believe I want Filipovic to pay; I want him _dead_." Sebastian paused for a moment and then straightened to his full height.

"My lady, if you will allow me, is this interaction about the Atherton Company or revenge?"

"Why not both? I want both, and have no intention of yielding either ambition for the sake of the other. Now see to it, Sebastian."

"Immediately, Madam." He exited the room and strode down the hall quickly, eagerly tearing his clean gloves off with his sharp teeth. There would be no use in getting blood on such a costly pair of gloves. No reputable butler of the Atherton family would stain any aspect of his uniform.

Ivan Filipovic stepped out of the opium den in the late silence of the smog-filled Shanghai night, a self-satisfied smile marring his handsome features. A bedraggled beggar approached him, and Filipovic turned even uglier as he shoved the poor man away with a vicious sneer. He pocketed four hundred pounds and twirled hiss can as he leisurely strutted down the empty narrow streets towards his sumptuous home. A cat hissed from far away and he paused briefly.

"Mister Filipovic, how nice to make your acquaintance…" He started and whirled around to face a shadow; he strained to see eyes, or any aspect of this dark person's face. All he could see was a grim grin.

"Ay! I don't what you're selling or doing. I'm not interested, you creep." The shadow slithered into step beside him. He dared a sideways glance and Filipovic still only saw the menacing smile.

"May I inquire as to what those four hundred pounds are from?"

"None of your damned business, Englishman!" The lilt of Britain was a dead giveaway for the Serb, and he relaxed for a short moment. But relief faded as the shadow appeared to grow before his eyes, and melted into his path, preventing Filipovic from stepping past him.

"Oh it _is _my business, sir. I would like to know what you have sold for that money…"

He sneered and burst through the shadow all at once, clutching his ill-gotten gains tightly and running in the direction of his home. The shadow pursued him with a fearful speed, and the breath caught in Filipovic's throat. He glanced back and could still only stare in horror at the widening smile of the shadow. He suddenly dug in his pocket for the money and hurled it into the empty street.

"There! Take it, I've got more where that came from!" He turned to continue his run but stopped in cold terror as the shadow enveloped him, bringing him to the cobbled ground. He whined and hugged himself as the shadow drew near and peeled back its licked lips to speak.

"Tell me, how much tasteless enjoyment do you get by selling off the pension of a widow and her children? Perhaps you have a deeper secret hoarded in the recesses of your mind?"

"I-I'll…I'll t-tell you anything!"

"Yes. You will."

Two guards at the luxurious compound of Ivan Filipovic heard an unearthly scram of terror, high and false like that of a woman's. The rushed around the corner and saw their master Filipovic lying huddled on the dirty cobbles of the street. The burlier guard turned him over and felt for a pulse. Then he turned to his comrade.

"God help us, Jovan. Master Filipovic is dead!"

"There's not a soul around to have killed him." Both guards fought the panicky paranoid delusions of a monster awaiting them in the shadows. They looked and saw nothing, not even a corner hidden from the bright moonlight.

"No, not a murder. Look at the man's face, Jovan. Clearly he died of fright."


End file.
